Halo: The Harvest Turmoil, Chapter 1
by Elliott Enigk
Summary: Arriving at Reach, The Crew of the Minerva are given a TopSecret assignment, and haveto go to the Harvest system.


Section 1, Voyager

**CHAPTER ONE**

**0700 Hours, May 15, 2524**

**(Military Calendar)/**

**Epsilon Eridani System, **

**UNSC Frigate _Minerva_, **

**In orbit around planet Reach**

Reach was, as always, a buzz with activity. The many intricate docking ports and homing bacons made navigators a necessity. On the _Minerva_, this was the job of second Lieutenant John Hart. He was all that stood between a safe journey, and one of the biggest naval accidents in naval history, he wasn't under that much pressure though.

'Maintain altitude at Mac 3.' Commander Molkov ordered, he hoped his ship was being recalled so it could be up-graded, he hoped with a new shipboard AI that he'd requested; it would make navigating so much more quick and precise; his was the only Ship in it's class without one.

He paused for a moment; scanning the planet; Reach was filled with many mountainous contents and large mountain lakes abundant throughout each, the largest by far was coming to view now.

'Jesus.' Lieutenant Walsh breathed, as they observed a mountain lake the size of France from 3000 miles up, it was an awe inspiring view that Molkov had seen many a time. But this time was no exception; Reach was the first plant that humans colonised after they left earth, it was also the closest to Earth so it was made into the Navel shipyard for all the UNSC, Earth was still H.Q., and home, but a lot of the orders now came from Reach, A lot of the ships to, the mountains on Reach were rich with iron ore, and the UNSC cleared out huge tunnels and catacombs that they now used as secret bases.

'It was formed over ten thousand years ago, Lieutenant, and holds roughly two percent of Reach's water supply. With 43 percent of the planets total fresh water, it's quite a sight from down there to.' Walsh already knew the lake, as he'd been to reach many a time whilst he was a pilot for the UNSC, although this was his first time on the Minerva.

'Alright,' Molkov moved back to his chair, he thumbed the ship's emergency override controls that were on his armrests, disengaged of course. He saw a new formation coming up; this could be a problem.

'Hart,' he ordered, 'find a way through this formation.'

'Yes, sir,' Hart focused on the small opening in between the fleet disengaging and the stationary MAC gun in orbit around the planet. If he didn't navigate through, they would fall behind schedule. It was all in his hands.

'Wait,' he told the pilots not taking his eyes off his navigation computer, 'there's a gap in the fleet coming up, 4 minutes.' Lieutenant Walsh came over to his workstation. 'Show me.'

He glanced at Hart's calculations, and looked out of the viewing screen at the fleet itself, 'you may be right.' He said sceptically. He went over to Molkov to confer this idea. Hart asked his co-navigator, Ensign David Rocha, for his input on the situation.

'It's risky, I can see why there concerned.' He said 'How long till were scheduled to dock?'

'2 hours, then were behind time.' Hart said.

'Well, Molkov really needs to report to the briefing and reassignment at the naval office,' Rocha said cynically 'his rank may depend on it.'

The captain and the Lieutenant finished there discussion and moved over to the PA, they were watched by Hart and Rocha to see if they would have a busy few hours or not.

'Attention on deck, this is Molkov,' he commanded respect from his crew; it was almost part of his families proud naval tradition. 'We are going to take a detour through a gap in the upcoming convoy line, so expect turbulence in the next 40 minutes, over.' He turned to his first officer and asked him if he could pilot the ship through, since he was the only one he trusted.

First Lieutenant Elliot Walsh had been a high priority pilot, meaning that he flew high priority politicians and Army officers to various destinations. His last high priority passenger was the then junior Admiral Preston Cole, most claim, including Cole, that the pilot's incompetence was what caused the ships capture and the Admiral's 7-month incarceration, but actually in runs much deeper than that. Some conspiracy theories are that the New Conquistadors had a cell on the vessel before take off, and that he had sabotaged the ship before takeoff. Walsh knew this for a fact but had to keep quiet, as he knew it would result in panic if he didn't. If it was an N.C. cell that sabotaged it, how many more cells were there in the UNSC's ranks? Why was it that when a strike force finally showed up on Atawa, they seemed to know how many troops they were against and how to move around them? And most importantly, how come they mostly disappeared without a trace off of that rock? These questions were just some of the ones that Walsh had thought about constantly since he was forced back into the field. But he knew it was a possibility that the UNSC Military simply chose to overlook, and Cole didn't seem to lose much sleep over it.

5 hours later the ship had disembarked, they had travelled most of the way round Reach, most of the way round the Human Empire for that matter. Thanks to the slip space capability they could be here now instead of taking eons by conventional methods.

Molkov and Walsh had left their ship for the briefing they rushed here for. Something big's goin' to happen, Hart thought. Whatever it was it was secret. So, if anything, he would either find out in propaganda or rumour form; he preferred the latter of these two ways.

'I'm just got to send a message,' He told Rocha, 'you're the ships navigator for the next 20 minutes.' Rocha just smiled and went back to monitoring all the objects in the area; and there were a lot of them. They were on the Resolve, a 500-metre orbital defence turret in space, the structure was a Magnetic Acceleration Cannon, MAC gun for short, and could put a beam round clean through any ship in the UNSC's arsenal, so far; it was always a buzz with activity and filled with people scrambling about their set tasks. Hart decided the Ship's onboard communicator was too weak, so went down the airlock to the Resolve.

'Do you have clearance, Lieutenant?' A Sergeant assigned to guard the airlock to the _Minerva_ asked him, Hart glanced at his tag—Steve Hylland, Staff Sergeant. Clearly they didn't want anyone from the _Minerva_ mixing with the civilians on Resolve.

'I just want to use the communicator to contact a friend of mine,' Hart said, the guard looked at him sceptically. 'The onboard computer's malfunctioning.' He said; this was a white lie if anything, this was practically true. The Marine told his subordinate to say at his post and followed Hart to the commutations bay. For Hart, Communicating with his old school friend Jake MacReady on Harvest was difficult enough without an edgy Marine scanning his every word. It was like a one-way E-mail. On Earth they've enjoyed instantaneous communication for generations. Instant communication out here still seems as distant a dream as it must have to Columbus or Marco Polo; both as far away from there comrade as physically possible at the time. They wouldn't be able to comprehend the distances we've travelled since then, him though. He chose a station to type his message at, it flashed up a selection, Inner or Outer systems? Hart selected outer, Please select star system…

He selected the Centurion star system that Harvest in. Please state message…

Hart looked behind him, the Sergeant gave him an unceasingly hard stare. 'Go on then.' He commended irritably. Hart just turned around and did what he set up to do when he left his post.

Dear Mac

How are things out in the wilderness, goin' slowly for ya'? I heard you get to test the new Warthog armoured vehicles, tell me all about it when you can.

We've been called back to Reach for some briefing; I recon it's some top secret mission into rebel territory or something, so I suppose I'll be out of circulation for a while (I'm using the communicator at the Resolve station so don't return the signal).

All in all, I guess I'll write you again from the Minerva A.S.A.P. But that will be some time.

Remember never accept Harvest as your true home, Earth is. And never forget:

The home it where the heart is

Take care, Jack.

'You can't send that part,' Sergeant Hylland said, pointing to the part about rebels.

Before he could think, Hart clicked the console, 'I just did.' He said defiantly.

Hart stood up and stared the Marine down. There were too many lies and rumours about the Marines hazy activities on Reach for them to be trusted. The Marine was about to arrest him when Walsh came down the staircase he had watched them from.

'Sergeant!' he addressed the troublesome soldier,

'This is my navigator you're harassing.'

'I have strict orders against divulging information, sir.' The Sergeant said, he sounded Brainwashed to Walsh; and he wasn't one for blind faith, not anymore.

'Did you "divulge" anything, Corporal?' Walsh asked Hart.

'Not anything that can be used against the UNSC, sir.' Hart said.

'Well then, I suppose you should back down then, Marine.' The Sergeant looked disgruntled. He wished he could make some kind of threat but he couldn't. 'You're not authorised here, you should move back to your ship now.' He said.

'O.K. that's what we were about to do.' Walsh said walking past the disgruntled Staff Sergeant. Once they got clear he began to question Hart.

'What was that all about?' He asked.

'I just told my friend that we were off on some secret mission and we'd be out of circulation for a while.'

'Did you?' he probed, seeing how much he knew, or thought he knew.

'Yeah, I didn't think he'd buy anything else so I told him the truth.' Hart replied.

'How do you know were off into a classified mission?' Walsh suddenly sounded more interrogating than the Marine.

'Why else would we be pulled out of our patrols, during the middle of them as well, whilst there are reports of the naval office holding meetings constantly…?' he paused, then continued. 'They're really freaked about something, and were involved somehow, right?'

'How do you know this?' Walsh asked.

'Dr. Matthew Hollander.' Hart answered, Walsh looked confused. 'Who?'

'He's this guy I met once at some big UNSC conference, he's an advisor to one of the Admirals I believe.

'Cole?' Walsh asked, his tone dropping a few notes. Hart knew why.

'No,' he continued; he knew he WAS with Cole, but he wasn't at liberty to say it to or even near Walsh. 'He has access to every piece of information that goes through the Naval office's doors. He's send it out to those he can trust not to expose him; trying to get the truth out, you could say.'

'And what makes you think I can be trusted?' Walsh said, almost looking down at Hart.

'Two weeks ago he sent out some files relating to the diplomatic vessel Foxtrot and its N.C. capture. It looked more like it exploded from the inside than shot down when they examined the wreckage. Cole claims they blew it up after there plundered it, but some still claim N.C. cells in the military planted those bombs before it even took of. The flight records are quite hazy but the pilots name was E. Walsh.' Hart watched Walsh's expression change from contradiction to regret, and then to pleased.

'This guy doesn't fuck about does he?'

Hart didn't bother to answer the rhetorical question but Hart briefed him in to what they were mission objective was. He would be closer to Mac than he expected. 


End file.
